The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 134

Aveline

By afternoon, Grandma Eleanor's new home had transformed into a symphony of organized chaos. Moving trucks lined the circular driveway like a convoy of prosperity, while uniformed staff members moved with practiced efficiency—housekeepers arranging fresh flowers, a chef setting up the kitchen, security personnel installing the final pieces of the alarm system.

Grandma Eleanor stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Hudson, watching yet another group of professionals arrive. A personal driver stepped out of a sleek black Mercedes, followed by two more housekeepers carrying pressed uniforms. Her eyes were absolutely glowing.

"Hold on to me, sweetheart," she said, gripping my arm with surprising strength. "Tell me I'm not dreaming. You've given me a completely new life in a single day—a real wealthy lady's life with servants and drivers and everything!"

I laughed, directing the landscaping crew toward the rose garden with one hand while steadying her with the other. "Come on, let's sit down before you faint from all the excitement."

We settled on a wrought-iron bench overlooking the pristine lawn, where Grandma Eleanor could watch the controlled parade of her new staff. She couldn't stop smiling, her head turning back and forth like she was watching a tennis match.

"Look at you," I teased, "your mouth is hanging wide open. I'm starting to regret this whole thing."

"Regret what?" she demanded, eyes still sparkling.

"Regret not coming back sooner to spoil you properly!"

Grandma Eleanor patted my hand, her expression suddenly wistful. "Well, this house is certainly magnificent, but it's going to be awfully quiet. You know what you need to do? Start working on giving me some great-grandchildren to fill up all these rooms!"

I smiled, though my thoughts immediately drifted to a certain seven-year-old with serious dark eyes and an obsession with dinosaurs. "Actually, Grandma, I don't have any romantic prospects yet, but I do plan to bring you a wonderful child to spend time with. You'll meet him very soon—today, actually."

Grandma Eleanor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Today? What do you mean—"

"Well," I grinned, standing up and brushing off my skirt, "that's my other surprise for you."

I gestured toward the sleek black Bentley waiting in the driveway, and immediately one of the housekeepers appeared at Grandma Eleanor's elbow, helping her to her feet with practiced grace.

"Your surprise isn't introducing me to some secret grandson of yours, is it?" Grandma Eleanor teased as she settled into the leather passenger seat, adjusting her seatbelt with obvious delight at the luxury.

I laughed, starting the engine with a purr that spoke of German engineering. "Nothing quite so scandalous. I'm taking you somewhere where you can truly enjoy nature—and maybe meet someone very special."

The drive north took us through winding country roads that gradually opened into the breathtaking Hudson Valley. When we finally passed through the wrought-iron gates of Willowbrook Estate, I heard Grandma Eleanor gasp.

The property unfolded before us like something from a dream—rolling emerald hills dotted with ancient oak trees, a crystal-clear lake reflecting the late afternoon sky, and gardens that looked like they'd been designed by angels. The main house sat atop a gentle rise, all stone and glass and tasteful elegance, with terraces that seemed to cascade down toward the water.

"Oh, Aveline," Grandma Eleanor breathed, her hands pressed against the window. "Today is absolutely the most beautiful day of my entire life."

Before I could respond, a blur of motion caught my eye. A small figure came racing down the gravel path from the main house—dark hair flying, sneakers pounding, face bright with excitement.

"Miss Aveline!" Ryan skidded to a stop beside the car, practically bouncing on his toes. "You finally made it! I've been watching for your car for like an hour!"

I stepped out and immediately found myself enveloped in an enthusiastic seven-year-old hug. "Ryan, I'd like you to meet my grandmother. This is the most important person in my world."

Ryan immediately turned his attention to Grandma Eleanor, who was being helped from the car by yet another staff member. He extended his small hand with the kind of old-fashioned politeness that made my heart melt.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs..." he paused, looking uncertain.

"You can call me Grandma Eleanor, sweetheart," she said, shaking his hand solemnly. "Any friend of Aveline's is family to me."

Ryan beamed. "This is going to be the best weekend ever! Come on, let me show you everything!"

As he led us toward the house, chattering excitedly about the lake and the hiking trails and the "really cool" library, Grandma Eleanor leaned close to my ear.

"Well," she whispered, "I certainly won't be lonely this weekend."

The path to the main house wound through gardens that belonged in magazines—perfectly manicured yet somehow wild, formal flower beds giving way to natural meadows that rolled down to the lake's edge. Staff members appeared as if by magic to take our bags, their movements so practiced they barely registered as intrusions.

Then the wind shifted, and the most incredible aroma reached us—smoke and spices and something that made my mouth water instantly.

Around the corner of the main terrace, I caught sight of a tall figure working at an elaborate outdoor kitchen setup. Even from behind, Orion Blackwell was unmistakably commanding—broad shoulders moving with confident precision as he tended to what looked like the world's most sophisticated barbecue. His white dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and there was something almost hypnotic about the way he moved, like watching a master chef in his element.

The outdoor dining area was set like something from a luxury resort. A long table draped in crisp white linen, crystal glasses catching the golden hour light, and an array of beverages that looked like they'd been curated by someone who knew exactly what would appeal to an elderly lady—fresh lemonades in vintage pitchers, iced teas with mint sprigs, even what looked like elderflower cordial in delicate glass bottles. Arranged on silver platters were foods clearly chosen for someone with refined but perhaps delicate tastes—soft cheeses, perfectly ripe fruits, delicate pastries that looked like they'd been flown in from Paris.

My chest tightened as I took in the scene. This level of preparation, this attention to detail—this wasn't casual hospitality. This was strategy.

What exactly was Orion Blackwell planning?

"He's very thoughtful, isn't he?" Grandma Eleanor murmured beside me, and I realized she'd been watching my face. "This must be the famous Orion I've been hearing so much about."

Before I could formulate a response, the man in question turned around, and that devastating smile of his hit me like a physical force.

"Well, Aveline," he said, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, "you finally made it. Perfect timing—dinner will be ready in just a few minutes."

Then he turned the full force of his charm on my grandmother, and I watched her practically melt under his attention.

"And you must be the remarkable woman who raised this extraordinary granddaughter. I can see exactly where Aveline gets her grace and intelligence."

I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment. When had Orion Blackwell become so smoothly flattering?

But Grandma Eleanor was beaming like she'd just been crowned queen of England.

"All right then," Orion said, clapping his hands together with satisfaction, "now that the family's all here, let's eat."

*Family.*

The word hit me like a bucket of cold water. I stared at him, my mind racing. What exactly did he think this weekend was? What game was he playing?

And why did the word 'family' from his lips make something flutter dangerously in my chest?